No More No More

Cigarettes I

Aerosmith returned home on the first of June (I was informed by Julia), and Joe was okay.  They had continued their tour and planned to finish starting in a week and five days.  They were going to Europe!  I congratulated Joey because he was right next to Julia.  I hadn't talked to Tom since the night he called for Steven.  I had unplugged my phone in my room because three of five people would call me late at night, begging me to come back, sometimes they were talking for Steven, other times they denied to be talking for anybody (though it was obvious Joe was right there telling them what to say)––more often than not, those conversations ended in tears and hanging up on them––but mostly it was just them, telling me that life sucked.  Steven and Joe were always fighting and stuff like that (oh, and Joe was never actually in the hospital.  The lying little Asshole is... An asshole).

--

Tom stopped by the first day they were back.  Man, was I glad to see him.  He gave me a huge hug and treated Terry and me to dinner at the little milkshake joint down the road.  Brad met us there.  It was... Fun, believe it or not.

        Now, don't go thinking, Oh, God, she's gonna hook up with Brad and the whole band's gonna fall apart and... No, I'm not.  I said I was done with the rockstar life.  That doesn't mean I can't be friends with them though, right?  Right.

        Steven and Tom for some reason were at my house that night.  We were in a very intense conversation about why I didn't come back, and when I finally got around to explaining so that it made sense, Steven said, "Tom, tell Annie that she's terrible at helping a person in need."

        "Tom, tell Steven that he can suck it."  I stare evilly at him.

        He looks right back at me, grinning evilly as well.  "Tell Annie that'd I'd love to."

      "Okay, can you guys stop?" Tom demanded, throwing a pillow from my bed at both of us.  We each were trying to throw little pieces of paper across my bedroom at each other.  Tom was in the middle of it, lying on my bed so that his head was wear my feet would go.

        Just then my mom walked in with a bowl of popcorn.  She still didn't trust me alone in my room with boys for too long.  "How's it going in here?" she asked.

        "Great, Mrs. C.," Steven answered sarcastically.  I rolled my eyes.  My mom looked pointedly at me, as if saying I sure hope so... No funny business, then walked away, leaving the door open just a crack.  Steven threw the pillow at it so that it'd shut.

        "Tom, tell Steven to go home."

        "Tell Annie I don't want to.  Tell her I'm staying all night."

        Tom groaned.  "Ugh, shut up!"

        Suddenly, Steven's face lit up.  "Oh, An––erm, Tom, ask Annie if Joe ever got the chance to talk to her about what he wanted to talk to her about."

        "What?" I say.  Then I remember: Annie, we need to talk... He told me to go first, I never heard what he wanted to say.

        "Tom, tell Steven no, no I didn't, and also to shut up."

        "I think both of you should shut up," Tom says tiredly.  Steven lights a joint and I cross the room and pull it from his mouth.  I take a very long drag, missing the smoke (I can't smoke around my parents), then throw it out the window.

        "What the f–– Tom, ask Annie: What the fuck was that for?!"

        "Annie, what the fuck was that for," Tom says in a monotone.